The Kingdom of Heaven is Like...

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-48                               Rev. Todd B. Freeman

Bethany Presbyterian Church, Dallas                          July 24, 2005

I sure hope you like parables – because this is the third Sunday in a row that we’ll be taking a look at the parables from the thirteenth chapter of Matthew. First, we studied the Parable of the Sower, then the Parable of the Weeds Among the Wheat. Today we add 5 more short parables to that list.

For many people, including myself, parables are among their favorite passages in the Bible. Did you know that over one third of all the recorded sayings of Jesus in the New Testament are his parables? According to the folks in The Jesus Seminar, they believe that the parables are the closest thing we have to the actual words spoken by Jesus. The rest of the words in red in those Red-Letter Bibles (that are ascribed to being said by Jesus) are often thought to be more of an editorial by the gospel writers themselves.

Regardless of who is right about what Jesus actually said, all agree that the parables are extremely important in revealing Jesus’ understanding of the realm or kingdom of God, or as Matthew prefers to call it, the kingdom of heaven.

Of the 5 parables that we heard this morning, I want to give primary emphasis to the first one, the Parable of the Mustard Seed, so I will save that one for last. In fact I’ll start with the last one we read and work forward. This approach is my way of actually following the very profound biblical principle that the first shall be last and the last shall be first.

Let’s look first at the Parable of the Net. It simply states that the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, and sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad.

The key to this parable is in knowing how fish were caught in the Sea of Galilee in ancient times. They weren’t caught one by one with a fishing pole and a hook. Rather, a huge net was dragged behind boats. Anything in its path was caught.

I like what this parable says about the approach to evangelism. Just as the fisherman casts a wide net, not knowing exactly what will be caught, not worrying about the wrong kind of fish, so it should be with the church. The doors are thrown open, the programs are open to all; the net is cast wide and deep. Into the church come people who are deeply serious about the things of God, as well as people who just want a pretty sanctuary in which to get married, or whatever.

The kingdom of heaven is wonderfully nondiscriminatory – at least that’s how it should be. Since we’ve all heard that the 11 o’clock hour on Sunday mornings is the most segregated time of the week, the church obviously has a lot of work to do. That’s why I find it so affirming that this congregation is so dedicated to being open, inclusive and multicultural.

The next two parable need to be looked at as a pair. In one, we are told the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field, in the other, like a merchant in search of fine pearls. Both the farmer and the merchant go and sell everything they have in order to obtain what they have found.

But the two parables are also different. The person in the field is simply going about his regular work, not looking for or expecting anything special. He is quite surprised when he comes upon the treasure quite by accident. The merchant, on the other hand, is actively seeking, knowing what he is looking for, and finally finds something beyond all his expectations.

Jesus reveals that the realm of God can become real in your and my life by either method - by stumbling upon it or by diligent searching. One biblical commentator writes, “Like buried treasure, God’s activity is often hidden and must be discovered. Like a pearl of immense value, it must be sought in order to be found.” What treasures from God have you discovered in your life, either accidentally or by searching?

The primary emphasis of this pair of parables, however, isn’t on the finding but on the overwhelming response made to the discovery. Together, they inform us that when our eyes have been opened to see what God is doing in and through our lives, this congregation, and the church universal, we must commit ourselves wholeheartedly. Discipleship requires commitment. This parable asks: How committed are you and I in furthering the kingdom of God – a kingdom which is compared with a great treasure?

We now come to the parables of the Mustard Seed and the Leaven. These two also form a pair, because both address the issue of growth, yet also have important differences. The Parable of the Leaven simply states that a woman takes some yeast and mixes it in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.

Doesn’t sound very shocking does it? Well here’s the twist. Yeast was an image used almost exclusively in stories to refer to evil. We might equate it to the familiar saying that “One bad apple spoils the whole bunch.” But here, Jesus compares yeast with the kingdom of heaven. He converts this image of corruption to something positive to serve his point. That’s how he regularly got the attention of his listeners.

Another surprise is the mention of “three measures” of flour. She is evidently baking for an army, because that amounts equals about fifty pounds of flour – enough to make bread for a hundred people! And the Greek word that is used indicated that the woman “hides” the yeast in the flour until the enormous amount is leavened.

This parable is not only about growth, then, it is also about radical transformation. One biblical commentator summarizes this parable this way: “One cannot see the kingdom pervading the world, but when its covert fermentation is accomplished, the bland flour of the world will have been transformed into the joyous bread of life.” What a nice image. That is the kind of difference we, as individuals and as a congregation, are to make in the lives of others and our communities.

We’re now at the point where the first shall be last, the Parable of the Mustard Seed. Jesus reveals that from an incredibly tiny seed comes a great bush, one that is even able to support the birds of the air. We learn that from remarkably small beginnings, the kingdom of heaven will experience tremendous growth, and it has indeed. The image of “all the birds of the air making nests in its branches” was a common figure of speech that referred to ALL people, not just the Jewish audience to which Jesus spoke.

Jesus told them that the kingdom of heaven, the realm of God here and now, includes everyone! So this parable is not only about growth, it’s also about inclusiveness.

Now, not that you would necessarily remember, but my very first Sunday here at Bethany as your pastor, back on July 20, 1997, was based on this parable. Hard to believe that was 8 years ago. The sermon was entitled “Hope for Growing Branches.” I emphasized our need to have hope that we, as a congregation, would grow and continue a ministry of inclusiveness. We indeed have done both.

It bears repeating that I came at a time when Bethany had been without a full-time pastor for 5 years, without any pastor for an entire year, was down to 30 members, had only enough finances in the bank to afford a full-time pastor for one year, and was seriously considering whether to close the church after serving here in Oak Lawn for 105 years up to that point.

It is just me, or is this an incredible example of deja-vu? Have we not nearly come full circle in Anglo membership, and now find ourselves in a remarkably similar financial situation, and with many of the same options before us? I guess one way to look at it is that at least we’ve added several more years onto the life of this remarkable congregation. But we aren’t ready to turn the lights out yet.

In doing research for this sermon today, I found something that I want to share with you. This will make this a longer-than-usual sermon, but bear with me. I think that you will find it remarkably relevant, not only as it applies to our denomination, which is its context, but also to us as a congregation here and now.

I want to read an excerpt from a sermon preached in 1996 by the Rev. Dr. Norman Pott, who was then the pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of San Rafael, CA – just a couple of miles down the road from where I went to seminary.

He reflects that the metaphor of this parable of growth doesn’t quite fit the Presbyterian Church. He notes that our denomination is “not that burgeoning, blossoming movement that Jesus depicts, we are the folks who are projected to disappear” if the present trend of church decline continues, perhaps around the year 2027. He continues:

The mood of the church has been infected with the dramatic loss of members and dollars [and influence]. Since 1965 the so-called mainline churches, the Lutherans, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Methodists, Congregationalists, have lost between 20 and 40% of their members. According to the research most of these people did not leave in a huff over the social witness of the church, very few of them have moved to more conservative churches. The large majority simply drifted away, phased themselves out of the community, slipped quietly away to that private place where the church is no longer a necessary component of their lives. They found that they could get along without it, and this response is particularly manifest in the so-called "baby boomers" and "busters." There has been a whole generation of people for whom the faith did not take. [This phenomenon happened a few generations ago in Europe, where now only 5-10% of the population actively attends church.]

So, we are hardly the treasure that people yearn to obtain. We have become a "take it or leave it" church, with a growing continuing number inclined towards "leave it." We are no longer perceived as a "with it" organization. We are no longer at the social center of the communities that we serve. We are no longer the primary catalyst for education, medical care, providing for the hungry and the homeless, that we once were. Others would say that our liturgy is out of date, our music is archaic, that we no longer mediate an experience of the presence of God, unencumbered by all of the institutional and theological baggage that we have accumulated through the years.

It is not easy to be confronted with all of that, because I suspect that much of the diagnosis is accurate, and the church must continue to reform, and to reconstitute itself so that we become a more pertinent, current and helpful gathering of people. But on the other hand it is surely unhealthy to live with a sense of failure or with some burden of guilt for the inadequacies of the mainline churches. If we are a dying church, a loser institution, what are you and I still doing here? Are we not still the church of Jesus Christ? Isn't Christ alive and going before us? Has not Christ promised to be with us even to the end? Surely this gives a value to the church that no statistics positive or negative could offset. This gives to our experience of the church a quality of treasure, that continues regardless of the signs and trends.

Yet we cannot ignore them. But they may not indicate the failure of our program and message so much as they do the adjustment of the church to the monumental shifts and changes that are taking place in the world. Some of our church sociologists depict us at the end of an era; not just decline in the mainline churches but the conclusion of that experience of the church generated by the Protestant Reformation. One that I find particularly insightful, Loren Mead, finds us in the concluding days of Christendom, a form of the church that has persisted for 1700 years. We are returning to a context more reflective of the apostolic church, a minority community in a sometimes supportive, sometimes hostile but mostly indifferent world.

The church has been at these crossroads before. Endings are never easy and are always accompanied by grief and pain… [Yet,] In the Christian church endings have always been at the same time, beginnings. The pain of the demise of one form of the church has been at the same time the birth pains of the new spirit filled community. And I, but more especially you, are not so much the last of the Mohicans of the Christian church, so much as are the privileged children of God, who are called to be a part of the transition of the church from what we have been to the new church of God's making and doing.

So though we may be confronted with a loss of members and dollars in this church, there is no excuse for a loss of vitality in the church. There is still the presence of God, the good news of Jesus, the moving of the Spirit, so the predominant mood should be one of celebration, and we should continue to invest our best energy to the quality of life of our worship experiences {and our Christian Education, and our fellowship]… [I believe God calls] us to hang in there in hope, and to live in expectation of God's new day, to keep a very light grip on what has been and cultivate openness and flexibility in anticipation of God's amazing and surprising future.

In the meantime we can continue to do those things which have always been a part of the church and always will be…  So let us proclaim the good news, tell the story to our children [and others], let us embody God's love for all of our near neighbors, especially the poor, the emotionally scarred, the homeless, the oppressed, the outcasts, the innocent victims. Whatever the form of the church in the future it will be composed of people in ministry, people living out of their gratitude for God's gifts. Finally [and perhaps most importantly] let us take sensitive and generous care of each other.

Amen.

Resource: sermon by The Rev. Dr. Norman Pott, “Nonchalant in the Real Estate Office”. July 28, 1996